


The Perfect Costume

by TheRussianKat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courfeyrac really likes halloween, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac throws an amazing Halloween party every year with a perfect costume to match - but this year he's running into more than one pitfall</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Costume

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skittery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/gifts).



> For Skittery! I hope you enjoy! I loved the idea of Courfeyrac going all secret agent to figure out the costumes but alas writing is a cruel mistress! I hope you enjoy and have a Happy Halloween!

Halloween was important. Halloween was Courfeyrac’s third favourite day of the year; just under Christmas Eve and New Years but above Easter and Bastille day (not that he’d tell Enjolras). Halloween just encompassed everything Courfeyrac loved; candy, dressing up, candy, making jack-o-lanterns, candy and mainly candy. So every year since he had gotten an apartment of his own he threw a Halloween party , a party which was eagerly awaited by all the amis especially as every year it seemed to get bigger and more elaborate.

This year promised to be no different. Courfeyrac had been planning for months, having pre-ordered most of the decorations the previous year in the post-Halloween sales. He had even recruited Cosette and Feuilly to help with snacks and Grantaire to supply the drink. Everything was organized, well, almost everything. There was just one small snag; he didn’t have a costume.

Now if questioned on this matter Courfeyrac would insist it was not in fact his fault. It was Combeferre’s.

During the four years he’d been throwing these parties he had had four impeccable costumes all which had completely, one hundred percent accidently matched Combeferre’s. Okay, if he were honest, it wasn’t accidental in the least. It normally consisted of following and spying on Combeferre during the weeks prior to the party until he finally figured out what his costume would be. So far they’d been Batman and Robin, Kirk and Spock, King Arthur and Merlin and Courfeyrac’s personal favourite Captain Hook and Peter Pan.

This year though Combeferre had been playing his cards very close to his chest and despite Courfeyrac’s best efforts he couldn’t for the life of him find out what the young doctors’ costume was going to be. Even though he had Bahorel, Cosette and Marius on his side they too were coming up blank. So now four days until the party he still had no costume and no idea what he was going to do. That was when the letters started appearing.

It was the morning of October 24th and Courfeyrac was running late, so late that he skipped shower, breakfast and cut his usual twenty minutes styling time down to only twelve, it was not a good day. But as he flew out of his front door a small white envelope on his door mat caught his eye. Groaning internally he grabbed the envelope and kept running. It wasn’t until lunch time that he finally got a chance to take a closer look.

It was a small slip of paper with ‘1997’ scrawled in the center “What?” he whispered turning the paper but finding it entirely blank except for those four digits.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning there was no letter on his door mat and as he headed to work and then got caught up in various case files all thoughts of the bizarre note got lost in the back of his mind. That is until he finally gave into his body’s craving for caffeine and surrendered himself to using the office coffee machine as both he and Enjolras were too buried to go on a coffee run. As he watched the gloopy coffee begin to dribble from the machine a small off-white envelope caught his eye pinned on the notice board above the coffee machine. On it, in a messy red scrawl, was his name. Suddenly the letter from the day before was gleaming at the front of his mind as he pulled this new letter from the board. This was almost identical to the last, holding only a small scrap of paper with only four digits scribbled in the middle; _2001_.

He was so baffled by the new letter he scurried back to his desk where the original letter was still in his top draw, leaving his pot of sludge like coffee behind.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning he wasn’t in so much of a rush so as he took a sip from his second cup of coffee and heard scuffling outside his front door he was able to open it in time to see Enjolras knelt on his door mat. “I can explain,” the blonde blurted as he scrambled to his feet.

Courfeyrac was just about to ask him to do exactly that when the blonde continued “Actually I can’t, explain that is. I mean I can but I really can’t,” the blonde rambled giving Coufeyrac an awkward smile before adding “sorry.”

“You’ve been leaving me the notes?” Courfeyrac asked his friend who was fidgeting with the basket clasped in his hands.

“Yes, but I swear I have no idea what they mean, he wouldn’t tell me,” Enjolras eyes widened as he realized what he had said “I mean they, or maybe not they. I don’t know. Here,” the blonde then thrust the small basket into his friends’ hands before spinning on his feet and almost jogging away from a thoroughly perplexed Courfeyrac.

With Enjolras gone Courfeyrac closed his front door and took a look at what Enjolras had been arranging in the basket. Wrapped in the baskets cloth were four small stuffed animals; a badger, a lion, a snake and a very fluffy penguin. “What of earth is going on?” he muttered staring at the previously mentioned penguin.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was the day before the party and Courfeyrac still had no costume or any explanation behind the bizarre messages and toy animals, luckily it was his day off meaning he had plenty of time to ponder both.

When he woke up it was almost 10am and the sunlight streaming through his painfully thin blinds was not what had woken him. No instead it was his phone bleeping excessively loudly beside him. Picking it up, he saw ‘Combeferre’ flashing on the screen signifying four new texts from his friend.

Snuggling further into the covers Courfeyrac opened the texts:

Ferre x: Good morning                                                                  09:48am

Ferre x: Did you get the notes?                                                                 09:48am

Ferre x: Sorry                                                                                     09:49am

Ferre x: It was the only thing I could think of                       09:53am

The phone bleeped again:

Ferre x: So did you figure them out?                                       09:56am

Courf: Morning! J                                                                          09:57am

Courf: No not yet – the penguin confused me                    09:57am

Ferre x: Think – what is a penguin?                                          09:58am

Courf: A fancy pigeon?                                                                  09:58am

Ferre x: ….                                                                                           10:02am

Courf: Not a fancy pigeon?                                                          10:03am

Ferre x: No.                                                                                        10:04am

Ferre x: It’s a bird                                                                             10:04am

Ferre x: Also no such thing as a fancy pigeon                       10:05am

Courf: So a badger, snake, bird and lion?                               10:06am

Courf: And what if the pigeon had a top hat?                      10:07am

Ferre x: Yes, what do they have in common?                      10:09am

Ferre x: and no, pigeons are common no question           10:10am

Courf: ….                                                                                              10:12am

Courf: OH!                                                                                          10:15am

Courf: HOGWARTS???                                                                   10:15am

Ferre x: exactly J                                                                            10:19am

 

Courfeyrac smiled as he read the last text. It was _Hogwarts_ was it?

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Come on, please?”

Enjolras looked up from his file seemingly considering Courfeyrac’s plea then smiled and said “No.”

“Enjolras!,” Courf whined “Please, it’s tomorrow. I can’t go to my own party without a costume, please?”

Laughing Enjolras reclined slightly “Don’t you have work to do?”

“You’re lame,” huffed Courfeyrac spinning his chair back round to his desk now with his back to Enjolras.

They worked in silence for almost five minutes right until Courfeyrac received an email from his blonde friend simply saying:

From: j.enjolras@amislegal.fr

Subject:

Message: I am not ‘lame’

They didn’t get much work done that afternoon.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost midnight before the day of the party and Courfeyrac was full on panicking. Hogwarts as it turned out was far too broad a topic and he was struggling as to which character his cru _\- friend_ , **_his friend,_** was suggesting he dress as. It could be anyone! It could be Hermione to Combeferres’ Harry Potter like they had done when they were five. It _could_ be Malfoy to Combeferres’ Harry Potter like they had done for going to see the first film when they were nine. It could be- _wait…_

His brain was ticking.

Jumping from the sofa he ran into the kitchen skidding to a halt as he snatched the notes from the counter; _1997…2001_ …

“It’s missing one,” he muttered to himself staring at the two pieces of paper his brain slowly adding everything together, and when the light clicked on it hit him like a freight train “oh Combeferre you fantastic bastard!”

 

* * *

 

 

For the twentieth time in the hour he’d been wearing the costume Courfeyrac brushed imaginary dust from his trousers and ran a hand through his hair causing his already messy curls to fall into further disarray. “Why isn’t he here?” he whined falling onto the sofa beside Grantaire.

“Could have something to do with fact the party doesn’t start for another half hour,” Grantaire replied giving his glass of disturbingly pink liquid a dubious stare “Does this actually have alcohol in it?”

Courfeyrac glared at his friend, who was either dressed as a shabby Aragorn or a well-groomed Hagrid “Why aren’t you acknowledging my pain?” he pouted “I acknowledged yours, and yes it does but I think the amount of cream soda hides it.”

“Hmm?” Grantaire didn’t seem convinced as he took another sip, tacking his lips he turned back to his love-lorn friend “and you didn’t acknowledge my aching heart, you just locked me and ‘Jorlas in a closet for an hour,” Courfeyrac groaned again turning away from him “Still can’t argue with the results,” Grantaire smiled as he spotted Enjolras enter the room, his normal wavy locks having been tamed with straighteners perfecting his Legolas themed garb.

Courfeyrac glared as he watched Grantaire almost skip toward his boyfriend “Stupid perfect couple,” he mumbled.

“Now that’s not very Courf’y.”

Almost falling off the sofa in shock Courfeyrac looked up to see the spectacled Combeferre grinning down at him. Scrambling up from the floor Courf didn’t take his eyes from the taller man. “In my defence he was ignoring my pain.”

Combeferre mouthed a silent ‘Ah’ at his friends words.

“So?”

“So…what?” Combeferre questioned carefully guiding the smaller man towards the drinks table which was almost buckling under the combined weight of the decorations and various bowls of punch.

“The costume!” Courfeyrac practically shouted “Is it right? Did I figure it out?” Courfeyrac finally really looked at man before him, dressed in a tatty suit with a scar make up’d on his face.

“Let’s see,” Combeferre chuckled softly, taking a step back as to properly inspect Courfeyrac’s costume. The colour scheme appeared to be ‘dust’ with a velvet brown corduroy jacket, a spice brown waist coat and a hideous off plum shirt. A scruffy goatee had been drawn about his face (damn his brilliant smooth and excellent complexion) and his hair fell in loose waves about his ears. “You know, I do believe you still make an excellent Sirius Black.”

A whoop of celebration emitted from Courfeyrac who proceeded to skip about the room telling everyone he passed of his triumph. Combeferre merely watched and grinned, his own heart jumping with each of Courfeyracs giddy whoops. His heart almost sprang from his chest when he was embraced by the leaping host “And you’re Lupin right?” Courf whispered his breath tickling Combeferres’ ear.

“Who else,” Combeferre responded softly. Queue more whooping…

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until almost two hours later that Combeferre was finally able to get Courfeyrac alone by which point both were more than slightly buzzed and Courfeyrac was supporting him as he stumbled out onto the tiny excuse for a balcony.

They stood in comfortable silence, Courf happy to watch the city fall asleep before him and Combeferre more than happy to watch Courfeyrac.

“You still haven’t figured it out,” Combeferre slurred giving Courf a pout.

Brain dulled by the various drinks of the evening Courf shuffled closer to his friend, as if being closer would help the words make more sense. “I get it,” he started pointing at Combeferre “You’re Lupin and I am Sirius, just like the last time right?”

“Nope,” Combeferre shook his head “not like last time.”

Courfeyrac was flat out frowning now, tugging at his waist coat as though it had betrayed him “Not like last time?” he asked his voice small.

Shaking his head Combeferre scooched closer “Last time,” he started raising a finger and gently ‘booping’ Courf’s nose “You kissed me.”

Suddenly Courfeyrac was feeling remarkably sober. His mind filled with the memory of kissing Combeferre like his life depended on it five years earlier. It had been a dumb, drunken, impulsive action – one that he had been almost certain Combeferre didn’t remember.

But now, with only a hairs width between them, and all their friends sufficiently distracted inside it was very memorable and very inviting a prospect. “Well we better make up for that then, hey?” Courf breathed his mouth now only inches from Combeferres’.

“Absolutely,” and with everything said Combeferre closed the gap and kissed Courfeyrac in a way he knew neither of them would ever have a problem with remembering.


End file.
